


so...how's parenting going? vol. i: the case of the imaginary friend

by thealmightyavocado



Series: so...how's parenting going? [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, Fluff and Crack, I had a good laugh so..., Kid Fic, M/M, im not sorry for this at all, the ridiculous antics of a toddler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 10:23:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20946782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealmightyavocado/pseuds/thealmightyavocado
Summary: “Louis.” Harry utters slowly, the inflection of his voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.But Louis doesn’t even have the words. How could he? All Louis can do is shake his head in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose as pure stress begins to radiate throughout his entire body. The scent alone is enough to knock a grown man to his knees.“Louis. There is shit on the ceiling.” Harry sounds like he’s on the verge of an actual breakdown, body so tense it’s a wonder how he hasn’t completely snapped yet. “Actual shit plastered. To. The. Ceiling!”And it’s not just that there’s shit on the ceiling. It’s on the walls and the floors and the tub and the sink and just—fucking everywhere. Toilet paper draped like fucking streamers at a birthday party. But this is no birthday party. No, this is a thing of nightmares, it is the work of a terror. A terror shaped exactly like their three-year-old son.“RORY!” Louis screams at the very peak of his lung capacity.“It wasn’t me!” A tiny, innocent voice calls back. “I swear! I swear! I swear!”or Harry and Louis’ three-year-old son has an imaginary friend that is making their life a living, breathing hell.





	so...how's parenting going? vol. i: the case of the imaginary friend

**Author's Note:**

> hi friends! long time no see! lol
> 
> so...lmao y’all, picture this: there i was outlining some angsty shit for another potential fic I'm trying to write (stay tuned) and i had this dumb idea and i just decided to write it for the hell of it. And then i realized that i love writing kids and all their foolishness so i thought might as well make a fun little open-ended crack fic series out of it for whenever i feel inspired to write dumb shit again. i thought it could be fun in between all the heavy angst i also love writing in my long fics. soooo anyway if you have a silly kid topic idea that you want me to twist into a little fic please let me know! i think as a writer its important to sometimes just not take yourself too seriously you know what I mean? anyway hit me up [@avocadolouie](https://avocadolouie.tumblr.com) let's have a laugh :')
> 
> I hope you enjoy this nonsense lol there is literally no depth to it. Just a short crack fic to maybe make you smile.
> 
> Love you!
> 
> lex. x.

"Tell everyone to be at their best. We're all gonna need to work together to get through this storm!"

**Dottie McStuffins**, _Doc McStuffins_

💩

“At this rate, maybe next time we should just pick a movie that we want to see. He’s going to fall asleep regardless, might as well get our money’s worth, you know?” Louis comments as he unlocks the front door to their house. Harry trails behind him holding their sleeping three-year-old son to his chest. 

Rory had begged them all week to take him to the theater to see _Angry Birds 2. _He’d been a ball of hyped up, uncontainable energy ever since Louis and Harry finally agreed to go this afternoon. And who would have thought that exactly 17 minutes into the movie, the kid totally knocks out right on Harry’s lap, apparently exciting himself right into a stupor. Louis had predicted as much, which left them stuck watching a movie he probably wouldn’t even have known existed if he wasn’t the parent of a young child. Honestly, they should have just tried to beg the theater manager to exchange the tickets for another showing in order to spare them from having to buy more tickets and sit through this whole thing again.

“But you know he’s going to want to go see it again because he missed it.” Harry points out. “It’s only a manner of time now.”

“That’s what Netflix is for, love.”

“Ok well you can try to explain that to him when he starts begging and crying to go see it again.”

“Let’s just agree to cross that bridge when we come to it.” Louis rests his palm on Rory’s back. “We should probably wake him up though or he’ll never sleep tonight. You know how much fun that was for us last time.”

“Oh, do I ever.” Harry winces as though having war flashbacks.

They let him sleep for only 45 minutes over his usual naptime and apparently that was all it took to energize him throughout the entire night. Rory had been high wired and virtually an unstoppable force leaving both Harry and Louis with dark circles they thought would never fade. Being parents to an overactive toddler is not always conducive to a healthy sleep schedule unfortunately. But Harry and Louis are one hell of a team and together they always manage to figure out how to keep each other sane.

“Here, I’ll take him.” Louis offers, holding his arms out.

Harry carefully shifts their sleeping son into Louis’ arms before gesturing towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna go deal with the all those dishes from breakfast.”

“Right, ok.” Louis gently begins goading Rory awake, scratching his back and softly calling his name until his eyes flicker open. “There he is. Hello my sweet boy. Have a nice nap?”

He sleepily rubs at his eyes, sitting up against Louis with his unruly hair sticking up all over. He starts looking around with a very confused, disoriented face. “Why are we home? I gotta see my movie.”

“You fell asleep remember, Ro?” Louis reminds as he gently brushes Rory’s deep golden curls from his face.

“No.” His adorable sleepy face morphs into an even more adorable frowny face. “Why did I sleep?”

Louis smiles fondly at him. “You tell me, silly boy. Daddy and I tried to wake you up, but you were just too sleepy.”

“I missed the whole thing!” Rory exclaims gravely as though it’s the worst news his small world can comprehend.

“You missed the whole thing!” Louis mimics with widened eyes before dropping a light kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry, RoRo.”

But instead of putting up more of a fuss, Rory suddenly starts squirming to be put down “I gotta go, Papa.”

“Where are you going, little monster?” Louis wonders as he sets his son down to the floor.

“I gotta go!” Rory repeats, and with that he scurries off down the hall, leaving Louis mildly confused.

“What’s up with him?” Harry looks up and questions as Louis joins him in the kitchen. His arms are elbow deep in suds, scrubbing at this morning’s pots and pans.

“Well, he was upset about the movie at first.”

“Of course. We knew that before he even woke up.”

“Right. But then he made The Poop Face.” Louis reveals. It’s a signature face Rory has been making since he was a little baby in diapers. He’ll purse his lips together and scrunch his little nose up. It’d be really cute if it wasn’t for the result that typically followed, requiring an immediate diaper change. But now that Rory is officially potty trained, it’s been pretty smooth sailing. Well, for the most part.

Harry glances curiously at Louis from his position at the sink. “Did he?”

“Yeah, babe. He did...and it was like, urgent. You know? _Really _urgent.” Louis recounts, leaning against the countertop. “Maybe we should check on him?”

“He’s fine, Lou.” Harry reassures, not thinking much of it. “He’s three, he knows how to go by himself. He’ll be ok.”

“Oook.” Louis blows out a stream of air as he shrugs his shoulders. “If you say so.”

Louis starts helping Harry tidy up the kitchen, a kitchen that seems to hardly stay clean with how often Rory eats. If it’s not a meal, it’s a snack, or a juice box, or who knows what else. But each and every time its guaranteed to somehow make some kind of mess.

After a few minutes Rory is still nowhere to be seen, which isn’t usual for him. He’s usually in and out of the bathroom in record time while Harry chases after him reminding him to wash his hands.

“I’m sure he’s fine, but I’ll go check on him.” Harry offers before Louis even says anything, seeming to read his husband’s thoughts as usual.

Louis smiles appreciatively, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you, love.”

Harry hums happily, kissing Louis back two more times before separating to make his way out of the kitchen. Louis grins after him, busying himself once again with the countertops he momentarily paused wiping down. And he’s just about to move on the stove when he hears an audible gasp cut through the house.

“Oh my god! No way!” Harry suddenly shrieks, the sound carrying urgently from the bathroom down the hall. “Lou! Louis—LOUUUIS!”

Louis is already bolting out of the kitchen and down the hallway in a blind panic. “What? What is it? Are you ok—oooh...” Louis sighs as soon as he sees exactly what his spouse is screaming bloody murder about. It’s definitely a murder scene, alright. He throws his head back and groans, hand on his forehead “What the fuuuuck…”

“Louis.” Harry utters slowly, the inflection of his voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

But Louis doesn’t even have the words. How could he? All Louis can do is shake his head in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose as pure stress begins to radiate throughout his entire body. The scent alone is enough to knock a grown man to his knees.

“Louis. There is shit on the ceiling.” Harry sounds like he’s on the verge of an actual breakdown, body so tense it’s a wonder how he hasn’t completely snapped yet. “Actual shit plastered. To. The. _Ceiling_!” 

And it’s not just that there’s shit on the ceiling. It’s on the walls and the floors and the tub and the sink and just—fucking _everywhere_. Toilet paper draped like fucking streamers at a birthday party. But this is no birthday party. No, this is a thing of nightmares, it is the work of a terror. A terror shaped exactly like their three-year-old son.

“RORY!” Louis screams at the very peak of his lung capacity.

“It wasn’t me!” A tiny, innocent voice calls back. “I swear! I swear! I swear!” 

“Forrest Tomlinson Styles!” Harry calls next through barely concealed rage. “What, did he throw a party in here! Look at this, Louis! Are you looking!? Do you see it! Do you fucking see what I see!”

“Yes, of course I see it, Harry! Yes!” Louis says, wishing that he couldn’t see it, or better yet smell it. “Calm down, we should—”

Harry’s eyes fall closed as he shakes his head, a stressed hand to his temple. “Louis, talk to your son.” 

“Excuse me, why is he suddenly only my son when he acts like a demon? He’s your kid too. And I _told _you that he made the fucking Poop Face and you were hardly concerned.”

“Talk! To! Him!” Harry bursts, pinching the bridge of his nose and Louis can just tell he’s about to start ranting wildly. “I can’t talk to him—I’ll lose it, I will literally _lose _it! Look at those bathmats—oh my god, we just bought those! And the shower curtain—the damn shower curtain—I _loved _that curtain! And ugh—will those walls ever be white again? Will they, Louis? _Will _they?!? God—we should just burn it…let’s just, like, burn our house down and move. It’s unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable! I just—how does that happen? _How_?! When did he have the time? He was only in here for, like, five minutes, Lou. Five fucking minutes and now our bathroom is a literal shitstorm!”

“Jesus...” Louis starts gagging as he suddenly flees the bathroom to the outside connecting hallway. He can’t even focus and listen to what his husband is saying because he feels a persistent urge to vomit. “Fuck—it smells like death in here—I can’t be in here anymore—I can’t do this. I. Can’t!”

Harry stumbles after him with half his face tucked into the neck of his jumper. “How does someone so small and so little do _that_? It shouldn’t even be physically possible! I’ve seen a lot of nasty shit as a nurse at the hospital, but that…that is _abhorrent_!”

Louis mirrors Harry, his own sweater hiked up over his nose and mouth as a must needed precaution. He puts both hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Breathe H, just breathe.”

“I don’t want to.” Harry answers weakly, shaking his head wildly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe in fresh air ever again. All I can smell is shit. And I hate it.”

“I know.” Louis nods in complete understanding. “We need to get to the bottom of this.”

💩

After Louis and Harry take a moment to attempt to calm themselves down, they get Rory sat down at the kitchen table. And he seems to be having the time of his life. Kicking his legs around as he hums the theme song of _Doc McStuffins_, bopping his head along and shaking his curls. He’s been singing that song out of order for the past two weeks nonstop and if it wasn’t so adorable, Louis would be ready to burn that show and its stupid goddamn theme song to the ground.

“_Doc McStuffins, Doc McStuffins, come let the visit begin…” _Rory sings happily to himself, with far too much enthusiasm. “_The doc is in!”_

Harry and Louis stand together eyeing their son from across the room like a suspect. A suspect they know for a fact is utterly guilty. Guilty of fucking shit up. Literally and physically.

“Look at him. Acting all cute and innocent.” Harry narrows his eyes and shakes his head suspiciously.

“_Do, do, do you know what’s good for you_…” Rory chants, even though as usual, he’s got the song all backwards.

“God, it’s ridiculous. He literally destroys our bathroom to unrecognizable degrees and then has the audacity to sit there and grin and giggle and sing to himself. He’s dangerous, H. He’s a menace. We’re in over our heads, you know?”

“What’s our game plan, babe? We gotta have a plan or he’s gonna play us like fools.”

It’s happened before. And it’s not that Harry and Louis aren’t strong parents, they most certainly are. They just also have a weak spot for their kid and sometimes it gets out of control. Maybe Rory is too smart for his age, maybe he’s too cute and too loveable, who knows. But a well-placed dimple and an adorably misworded statement and Rory has his parents eating out of the palm of his hand on a daily basis.

“Am I trouble?” Rory wonders, looking up at his parents with bright, curious eyes.

“Oh little monster, you are truly the epitome of trouble, but I think you mean are you _in _trouble.” Harry corrects.

Rory sucks on his lower lip as he squints his eyes in concentration. “What is e pit oh me?”

“It doesn’t matter right now.” Louis brushes off, returning back to the topic at hand before his son completely derails their focus. “Rory, we need to talk, ok?”

“I did not do it.” Rory states in certainty, folding his hand together on the wood of the table.

“You didn’t do what?” Louis questions curiously. “We haven’t said anything yet.”

“It.” Rory starts drumming his little fingers on the table, looking like the picture of perfect innocence. “I did not do..._it_…”

“Wow, he’s good, isn’t he?” Louis comments quietly to his spouse.

“I almost believe him.” Harry sighs, eyeing Rory speculatively.

“Rory, have you gone potty today?” Louis continues with the investigation.

“Mm mm.” Rory shakes his floppy head of curls excessively. “No.”

“Really?” Harry wonders, leaning in a bit. “Are you telling us the truth?”

“Yes. Only truths Daddy, I _swear.” _Rory widens his eyes, puffing out his chubby cheeks.

“You swear, huh?”

“Mhmm.” Rory nods, swinging on his little legs from the kitchen chair.

“Lou, he said he swears.” Harry quietly turns back to his husband. “What if he is really telling the truth?”

“Harry, the bathroom didn’t shit itself, ok. He did it. We _know _he did it.” Louis reminds. “Think of the curtains, babe. Think of the fucking curtains.”

Harry shudders as though instantly triggered by that thought alone. But who can really blame him.

“May I have a snack please?” Rory requests sweetly, smiling up at them with his cheeks dimpled.

“Not right now, bud. We aren’t finished talking yet.”

“But why? I said please.” Rory pouts a little, looking up at them both sweetly. “Pretty please! Pretty, pretty, pretty _pleaaase_?”

“Ro, let’s go for a walk to the loo, yeah?” Louis says next. “Daddy and I just want to show you something.”

“Then can I have my snack?”

“Sure. Yeah, then you can have your snack.”

“Ok.” Rory agrees easily, taking Louis’ hand as though he has nothing to hide. An absolute savage honestly.

Louis winces upon seeing the sad desolate state of their downstairs bathroom once more, the stench smacking him once again directly in the face. “So Rory can you maybe explain how any of this possibly happened?”

“Um. No.” Rory decides after a minor pause.

“No, you can’t tell me? Or no you don’t know?” Louis questions closely.

“No.” Rory repeats. “Just no, Papa. No.”

Louis and Harry exchange an exhausted glance, silently wondering how they are going to break their son into telling them the truth.

“Forrest.” Harry calls his full name seriously as he kneels down to be eyelevel with him. “You were the last person to come in here and—”

“But Daddy I did not do it!” Rory’s deep mossy colored eyes are as wide and expressive as ever.

Harry places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Rory, honey, just tell Daddy the truth. Please.”

“Daddy, I _am _telling the truth. It wasn’t me.” Rory insists yet again, somehow making his eyes even wider. “It was Doobie.” 

“_Doobie_!?” Louis’ eyebrows shoot up in disbelief absolutely certain he couldn’t have possibly heard this three-year-old correctly. He’s losing it, he swears he is actually losing it now. “Is that a person? Is that...a place? An idea? What is Doobie, help me understand, Rory. Help me please.”

Louis can tell Harry is trying so hard not to laugh, biting down on his lower lip. And truthfully Louis wants to join him because how can they not laugh at this ridiculous situation. Maybe a little laughter will help lower the stress he feels radiating through his veins.

“No, Papa. He is my friend.”

“Your…friend...” Louis processes gradually, not knowing how to even begin unpacking that information. “Ok, buddy. And did you name him that yourself or...”

“No, that is his name.” Rory defends genuinely.

“Right, right…right, right…_right…”_Louis slowly nods, sucking on his teeth. “Ok and where is Doobie now?”

“Right there.” Rory points to a vague empty space next to Harry.

“Ooh, by Daddy? Doobie is sitting by Daddy right now? Like, right _this _moment?”

“Mhmm.” Rory nods proudly, swaying on his small feet.

“Incredible.” Louis deduces, glancing towards Harry. “Well darling, it’s seems you have a new friend.”

“_Looove _new friends.” Harry smirks at his husband. 

“So, if I’ve heard you right, you’re telling us that you didn’t make this mess in the bathroom but...your friend…Doobie…did…” Louis recounts slowly, making direct eye contact with his son.

“Yes. I told him not too but...” Rory shrugs in that cute way he does that gets him out of just about everything.

“Ro, we talked about this, sweetheart. If you need help on the potty you can call me or Papa and we’ll help you—”

“But I did not need help cuz it wasn’t _me_!” Rory insists for two hundredth time today. 

“Alright. Ok. Great. Ok.” Louis nods repeatedly, having had enough of this circular conversation with a toddler. 

“Can I go now?” Rory request impatiently. “I wanna have my snack.”

Louis is already nodding his head, feeling a headache coming on as he rubs his temples. “Yes, please. Go. _Go_.”

With that, Rory takes off running down the hall, the sound of his tiny voice carrying after him to the wonderfully thrilling tune of _Doc McStuffins_.

“Remember we don’t run in the house, Rory.” Harry calls after him, although the kid is already long gone. Harry sighs as he leans against the wall of the hallway looking to his husband wearily.

Louis shuts the bathroom door, choosing not to deal with any of that for now. With mutual drawn out sighs, Harry and Louis slide down the wall to sit on the floor together.

After a few moments of silence and much needed processing, Louis tilts his gaze towards Harry, shaking his head as he shrugs his shoulders at an utter and complete loss. “What the fuck, H? What the actual _fuck_?”

Harry drops his head down to Louis’ shoulder and just starts laughing hysterically and Louis can’t help but join him this time.

“He has an imaginary friend named Doobie.” Harry cackles into Louis’ side. “I just? I love him, you know? He’s gonna be the death of me, but I love that kid.”

“He’s hallucinating Harry, our son is hallucinating a doobie. Like, where on god’s green earth did he hear that?” 

“Please—stop.” Harry clutches at his sides, laughing even harder.

“You know actually, I can relate. I’ve definitely hallucinated a time or two because of a doobie.”

“Lou, shut up!” Harry begs like he can’t even breathe anymore. “It’s too much.” 

Louis cackles along with him, hardly believing the odd shift his day has taken. But such is the life of a parent. “So what do I have to do to not help clean that up?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of that, babe.”

“I’ll give you head for it.” Louis offers instead, nudging Harry suggestively like they’re two teenagers. “Like that really good, prime, all of my focus and soul kind of head. You’ll see stars, baby. I swear to god, you’ll see all the stars.”

Harry scoffs as if unimpressed by the offer. “Please, I can get that anytime from you.”

Louis gasps, utterly appalled. “Are you calling me _easy_, Styles? Because I take real offense to that.”

“No baby, you’re just a sure thing.” Harry smirks knowingly, pressing a kiss to Louis’ temple. “My sure thing.”

Louis rolls his eyes and sighs. “How about I clean the entire house all by myself except for that bathroom?”

“Nope.” Harry starts standing to his feet. “You’re cleaning up shit with me, Louis. That’s what marriage is.”

“Funny, must’ve missed that part of our vows.”

“Yeah, it was right by the part when we promised to always give really good head as long as we both shall live.”

Louis laughs fondly. “Oh yeah, it’s all coming back to me now.”

“It won’t be that bad if we do it together.” Harry promises. “You know we have this trick at the hospital whenever there is a Code Brown.”

“What’s a Code Brown?”

Harry points finger towards the bathroom door.

“Oh right, duh.” Louis nods obviously.

“So, you pick a strong scented essential oil and rub it under your nose before putting a mask on and then it’s all you’ll smell. Toothpaste works too actually.”

“Interesting. I guess we will see about that then. Cuz I was thinking more of a hazmat suit and a gasmask, but you’re convinced essential oils will be my savior.”

“Just trust me alright. It works.” Harry defends seriously.

“Yeah, yeah we’ll see about that.”

💩 

“Terrible twos my whole ass.” Louis grumbles as flops down onto their bed in pure exhaustion.

After putting Rory down for bed, Harry and Louis began the great feat of sanitizing their bathroom armed only by the sacred power of peppermint essential oils to keep them standing. Surprisingly Harry’s little trick worked, and he wasn’t overcome by the urge to puke or run out of the bathroom screaming every two seconds. Louis was convinced that bathroom would never look the same again, but after watching multiple YouTube cleaning videos and using just about every cleaning product available in their home, that poor bathroom is just about returned to its former glory, minus the shower curtain. And to think it only took four hours.

“Terrible threes more like.” Harry yawns heavily, collapsing into bed next to Louis. “He was practically an angel at two.”

Louis yawns next. “An angel is probably a stretch but…I’ll take it.”

Harry suddenly starts giggling to himself in that sleepy delirious sort of way. Eyes falling shut as his dimples etch his cheeks.

Louis turns himself towards him. “What’s so funny?”

“You know that line in _Old Town Road _that goes ‘Can’t nobody tell me nothing’?”

“Yeah?”

“Rory _totally _wrote that line, I swear to god.”

Louis snickers to himself. “Is that where your brain goes at 2 a.m? Relating popular songs to our son?”

“Apparently. Yeah.” Harry continues chuckling sleepily. “But you have to admit it sounds exactly like the ultimate toddler mood.”

“You’re not wrong.” Louis laughs again which turns into another yawn of his own. “Remind me H, why did we decide to have a kid?”

“Remind _you_?” Harry scoffs in mock offense. “Why don’t you remind me?”

“Bitch, what? Don’t pretend like you didn’t want kids your whole life. You’d be pregnant right this instant if you could be.”

“As long as you stop pretending that you didn’t beg me to start a family with you the very second you met me.”

“Whatever.” Louis resigns, knowing fully well that what Harry is saying is 100% true.

To be fair, when they met Louis was practically so high on painkillers, he didn’t know what was coming out of his mouth. As an interior designer, his job requires him to oversee his various housing projects. Terribly long story short, Louis was on site at a house mid-construction and suffered a nasty shot of a nail gun right through his left foot. Naturally, he was a big baby about it while in the E.R. where Harry happened to be filling in as a nurse that shift. Whether it was the morphine swimming in his system or the lingering delirium of being shot by a nail gun, Harry looked so angelic that Louis literally asked him on the spot to father his future kids. Luckily for him it actually worked out somehow. When he came to, the first thing he did was ask Harry on a proper date and the rest is history.

“Remember last weekend when we said we were ready for another one?” Harry laughs really hard at that as if the entire concept of taking on another child is absolutely preposterous.

“Yeah, well fuck that idea...that was when I thought our one kid was sane and stable, not shitting on bathroom walls and blaming it on some invisible kid named after a joint.” Louis grumbles. “God, that sentence alone sounds bloody unbelievable.”

“Lou, imaginary friends are totally normal at his age.”

“Oh yeah? Great, cheers. So, I’m guessing shit on the bloody ceiling is normal at his age too, right love?” 

“Imaginary friends are a sign of developmental growth and indicate that he is cultivating a sense of social intelligence.” Harry explains knowledgably.

“He’s three.” Louis states flatly. “How much social intelligence does he really need to indicate?”

“Baby, I’m telling you it’s normal. I’m a nurse, I would know.”

“So what you’re some kind of child expert now?” Louis questions skeptically. “You mainly work in the ICU, Harry. Don’t imagine there would be too many toddlers with imaginary friends rooming around your unit.”

“Yeah, ok, but you know I did a yearlong pediatric rotation, so uh yeah maybe I am an expert actually.” Harry defends, sitting up a bit in bed.

“Prove it.” Louis challenges.

“Fine.” Harry narrows his eyes, never ever backing down from one of Louis’ challenges. It’s a thing they do constantly, challenge each other— always daring each other to do the stupidest most unnecessary things. Louis thinks it keeps their relationship fun. Harry would agree if Louis challenged him.

“Are you looking it up right now? Seriously?” Louis wonders curiously as Harry reaches to the bedside table for his tablet.

“Yes, you told me to prove it, so I am. Bite me.” Harry playfully sticks out his tongue as he starts typing on the iPad.

Louis obliges in the literal sense and starts nibbling gently on Harry’s ear lobe.

Harry swats at him absently. “Ok—not literally, Lou. Leave me alone.”

Louis giggles to himself before resting his head down on Harry’s chest as sleep starts to pull heavily at him.

“Aha!” Harry announces suddenly, jolting Louis awake right as he was just about asleep.

“Fuck—” Louis hisses, blinking blearily. “A little warning would be nice, love.”

“My ‘aha’ was your warning. Anyway, according to this parenting article that cites evidence-based _research_—” Harry emphasizes loudly for no necessary reason. “Imaginary friends are a normal part of adolescent development that help children in fulfilling the three fundamental psychological needs.”

“Which are?”

“Competence, relatedness and autonomy.” Harry reads. “It’s giving him a unique sense of control and stimulating social situations with zero perceived consequences. I told you so, Lou. Eat my ass.”

Louis lifts his head up and raises an eyebrow in teasing question. He’s kind of tired, but he could always delve up the energy to eat his husband out.

Harry rolls his eyes, grinning. “Not right now, you idiot.”

Louis smirks to himself. “Ok so, does the magical article say what we supposed to do about it?”

“We need to be supportive and just go with it and encourage his social and emotional growth. If he is doing it to gain control and demonstrate his own autonomy, he’ll probably keep pressing limits. But we have to keep the same rules of our home and be consistent with him.” 

“Right, so I guess now we are the proud believers of a kid named Doobie. Wonderful. All I ever wanted as a parent.” Louis says with the utmost sarcasm. 

Harry places his tablet back down on the bedside table and snuggles up to Louis. “Didn’t you have an imaginary friend as a kid, Lou?”

“I dunno? Maybe?” Louis yawns. “I don’t remember anything in particular?”

“Well I did. Her name was Toast and we used to do our nails together.” 

“Toast.” Louis giggles, more fondly than anything else. “I somehow don’t doubt that at all. In fact, it’s all making perfect sense. Do you still hang out with Toast now? Do you have play dates together? Can I come along next time? God, I’d _love _to meet her.”

“You’re an asshole.” Harry laughs softly.

Louis curls himself tighter to Harry, smiling up at him proudly. “But I’m your asshole and that’s what counts, love.”

“Wow, that’s _so _beautiful. You’re, like, a poet or something.” Harry praises sarcastically.

“Now who’s the asshole, asshole?”

“Still you.”

💩

The next morning Harry decides that they should spend the day together as a family and attempt to get to the bottom of Rory’s new best friend. They are both off of work, so it is the perfect opportunity to spend time with their son and try to understand what is really going on beneath the surface.

Rory is beyond excited, as he is about just about everything. What can Louis say, the boy is easily excitable. But it’s so endearing to see how his face completely lights up when Harry tells him that they’re planning to go out for ice cream. Once Rory is done cheering and clapping, he almost immediately asks if Doobie can come along with them, which was a shock to no one.

“Ready to go, RoRo?” Louis calls up the staircase.

Rory materializes at the landing at the top of the stairs, gradually making his way down. “I’m ready, but Doobie isn’t.”

“He isn’t? Is he ok?” Harry asks sounding like he’s genuinely concerned about a figment of Rory’s imagination.

“Yeah.” Rory nods, jumping down the last two stairs. “He is just slow sometimes.”

“Oh, ok. Well we need to get going so…”

“We can’t leave him!” Rory insists, clearly appalled that Harry would even dare say that. “He has to come!”

“He is welcome to join us.” Harry reminds easily.

“But he’s not here…” Rory states, looking worried.

“Can you maybe go get him then?”

Rory pauses and thinks to himself for a moment, looking very deep in thought about this odd, unnecessary predicament. “Maybe if you call him.”

“Call him?” Harry questions in surprise.

“Yes, Daddy.” Rory answers in all seriousness. “Tell him we need to go.”

Harry blinks at a clear loss, eyebrows pulled. “Um…”

“Go ahead babe, please tell Doobie we are on a schedule.” Louis smirks at him knowingly. It was Harry’s bright idea to go along with this or whatever the damn article said, so Louis is sure he can handle it.

“Right, ok then.” Harry nods slowly, clearly his throat. “Erm…Doobie, come on. We’re uh…ready to go…”

“Daddy, he did not hear you!” Rory decides with his little hands on his hips. “You gotta say it louder.”

“Louder? Really?”

Rory nods up at him innocently. “You gotta.”

“Better try again, love. You gotta.” Louis encourages in teasing, mimicking their son’s stance with his own hands on his hips. “Wouldn’t want to leave our dear friend Doobie behind.”

Harry tosses Louis an unamused look before Rory grabs hold of Harry’s hand and starts rattling it impatiently. “Hurry Daddy! Hurry!”

“Ok honey, alright.” Harry soothes him. “Doobie, we’re leaving! Time to go!”

Louis nearly chokes on the laugh he holds back, loving how ridiculous his husband sounds as he seriously calls a nonexistent person at his son’s command. It’s just priceless. Louis wishes he recorded it so he can haunt Harry with it for years to come.

“There he is!” Rory exclaims, bounding up and down excitedly. “You did it!”

“Wow! Good job, Daddy.” Louis praises, clapping his hands in clear mocking to which Harry responds with a quick flip of his middle finger behind their son’s back. “Rory, what would we ever do without Daddy?”

“I dunno.” Rory shrugs as he looks up at them. “Be sad.”

“Be sad.” Louis nods in agreement before grinning appreciatively at Harry. “I think you’re right about that.”

💩

Unsurprisingly, the ice cream shop itself brings about its own set of Doobie riddled antics, starting from the very moment they start to sit down at a table.

“No! Doobie is sitting there, Papa!” Rory shrieks with wide panicked eyes.

“Oh my—I’m so sorry Doob, my bad mate.” Louis apologizes to the seemingly empty chair. “Didn’t see ya there.”

Rory pauses before looking up at Louis. “He said he forgives you.”

“Wonderful. Good lad.” Louis says as he points to another also seemingly empty chair. “He’s not trying to switch to this chair now is he?”

“No. You can sit.” Rory tells him in all seriousness.

“What a relief.”

“Ro, do you know what you want?” Harry asks.

“Ummmm.” Rory hums to himself, puffing out his little cheeks as he thinks. “The cookie one! And pink for Doobie!”

“I’m sorry, uh Doobie eats ice cream?” Louis questions the three-year-old in fascination. “That’s new.”

“Yes. And he wants pink.” Rory repeats.

“Pink as in Strawberry?” Harry clarifies to be sure, knowing it’ll be disastrous if he got the wrong flavor of pink. “May I get a please with that.”

“Please, Daddy.” Rory corrects politely.

Harry stands up to go and place their order, ducking down to kiss the top of Rory’s curly head first. “Coming right up, RoRo.”

“Wait Harry, can I talk to you for a second.” Louis stands up with him, meeting Harry a few paces from their table. “You’re not actually buying a cone for the invisible boy, are you?”

Harry shrugs as though he hadn’t thought much of it. “Why not?”

“Because…it’s a waste of both money and ice cream.” Louis answers obviously. “We can’t just do whatever little Doobie wants. Might I remind you that he is in fact not _real_.”

“It’s just an extra cone, Lou. It’s no big deal.”

“It will be a big deal when I’m stuck holding it because surprise surprise, imaginary friends don’t actually eat.” Louis whispers pointedly to Harry.

“Louis, it’s an ice cream cone.” Harry says flatly.

“Oook, fine whatever.” Louis shrugs as he returns back to the table with Rory.

Harry returns balancing four cones in his hands for only three people and Louis is once again reminded that this whole ordeal is absolutely ridiculous. “Here you go, Ro.”

“Thank you, Daddy!”

“Of course, my darling boy.” Harry winks at him before moving to pass a mint chocolate chip cone to Louis. “And for my darling husband.”

Louis smiles softly. “Thanks, love.”

And that leaves Harry with two lovely cones in his hands, one for him and one for the wind.

“Doobie likes someone to hold his for him.” Rory reveals, eyeing his dad closely.

“Ooh, does he now?” Louis looks directly at Harry as he asks, lips pursed knowingly.

“Yes.” Rory confirms.

“Is that someone meant to be me?” Harry wonders.

“You or Papa.”

“Oh, Papa votes that Daddy should do the honors.” Louis smirks, watching the already dripping cone in his husband’s hand.

“Happy to do it.” Harry plasters on a smile as he adjusts the melting strawberry cone.

“I’m sure you are happy. _So _happy.” Louis teases further, enjoying every minute of it.

Harry is about to reply, probably with something equally shady, when Rory drops his chocolate chip cookie dough cone ceremoniously to the floor. And before Harry and Louis can even say a thing, Rory follows it up immediately with, “It wasn’t me!”

“Rory, sweetheart…we saw you drop it.” Louis tells him gently. “It’s ok though, accidents happen.”

“No. I did not do it.” Rory says, sticking to his story. “Doobie tooken it from me.”

“Took.” Harry amends briefly. “But Rory you don’t have to blame it on Doobie. We all make mistakes.”

“It wasn’t me!”

Louis sighs as he turns his gaze towards Harry who looks equally tired.

“Here how about you have this cone.” Louis suggests, offering the strawberry cone that’s fate was headed towards the nearest bin.

“No! That’s Doobie’s!” Rory shakes his head sounding appalled that Louis would even suggest such a thing. “He wants that!”

“Ok then. Do you want mine?” Louis offers next. “I’ll share it with you.”

“No.” Rory sulks to himself. “I do not like that one.”

“What about mine?” Harry tries next. “Do you want to share with me?”

Rory shakes his head, and his expression is growing more and more said and Louis honestly hates it. “No.”

“Ok, it’s no big deal, Rory. I’ll go get you a new one, alright?” Louis tells him easily, hoping that look of utter despair will leave his face.

Rory brightens instantly at that, like only a three-year-old can. “Thank you, Papa!”

Who knew a simple innocent trip to get ice cream could be so goddamn difficult.

💩

Going back home doesn’t seem to be any better. In fact, the second they set foot in the house, Rory takes off running towards the kitchen. He turns the corner and its only moments later when the sound of a loud crash echoes through the house. Harry and Louis rush to the source of the sound and find the mug Harry was drinking tea out of earlier in shattered pieces on the wood floor. It must have been placed just a little too close to the edge of the table when Rory rammed into it.

“Rory, how many times have I told you not to run in the house.” Harry sighs in total exasperation. “You know better.”

“It wasn’t me!” Rory declares as he dashes out of the kitchen.

Harry sighs even heavier as he walks defeatedly over to the cabinet for the broom and dustpan, mumbling under his breath. “It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me…it wasn’t fucking me—_ugh.”_

“Having fun grumbling to yourself, H?” Louis wonders as he comes up behind him, encircling his waist with his arms.

Harry turns around and just looks at Louis flatly.

“Just admit that going along with this imaginary kid stuff is nonsense and the developmental parenting articles are shit.”

Harry frowns at that. “They aren’t shit...it’s all part of his developmental play and—"

“It’s shit, Harry. It’s just right shit. He is using Doobie as a crutch for everything that comes his way and he’s avoiding responsibility. I think it’s time we do something about this before he terrorizes our entire house and sweetly says ‘it wasn’t me’.”

Harry sidesteps out of Louis’ arms to start sweeping up the broken pieces of blue mug. “He’ll grow out of it, Lou. It’s just a phase.” 

“What if it’s not just a phase though?” Louis persists, bending down to hold the dustpan for Harry.

“Then what is it?”

“Well what if something is really bothering him and this is how he’s coping with it?” Louis wonders. “He could be doing this for our attention.”

“He’s clearly doing it for our attention because he knows what he is doing is wrong.” Harry agrees. “But what could be bothering him though? You know we absolutely spoil that little boy. Like, no one is allowed to say that except us, but it’s true. He’s spoiled.”

“God, I know he is.” Louis shakes his head. “We love him so much that we spoil him. Probably too much. But there could still be something bothering him. We need to sit him down and talk to him.”

Harry and Louis finish cleaning up the shards of porcelain before heading to the living room in search of their son. They find him playing peacefully with his trainset, but what is not so peaceful is the new mural of what looks to be a swirl of colorful markers all over one of the walls. And honestly where the hell does this child find the time.

“Forrest!” Louis calls instantly in a firm voice. “Come over here right now!”

“God, I am _tired_.” Harry slumps against the wall. “We turn our backs for five seconds and this happens.” 

“I did not do it, Papa!” Rory responds as he strolls innocently towards his parents as though nothing is amiss. “It wasn’t me.”

“Oh let me guess. This is your best friend Doobie’s handiwork right?”

Rory nods, swinging his hands behind his back. “Mhmm. I told him no, Papa. I did.”

“You told him no.” Louis nods, sighing. “Right, right…”

“Mhmm.”

“Baby, if Doobie is going to hang out in our house, he has to follow the rules, ok? Just like you have to follow the rules.” Harry explains slowly in an even tone. “Painting on the walls is a no-no. We don’t do that.”

“I know already, Daddy. I know.”

“Ok well, if you know you should tell your friend.” Louis tells him next.

“I dunno, Papa. Maybe you gotta call his parents.” Rory suggests.

“You want me to call Doobie’s parents?” Louis asks incredulously. Of all the things he expected to come out of his child’s mouth next, that was not one of them. 

Rory nods his head of curls eagerly. “Yes.”

Louis just stares at his kid for several moments before pulling out his phone. The things he does for this boy. “Ok, alright Ro, what is his parent’s phone number?”

“Seven.” Rory says simply.

“Just seven?”

“Seven...nine.”

“Seven nine.” Louis types into the phone. “Got it.”

“Three.” Rory adds.

Louis blinks, narrowing his eyes. “Ok, seven nine three.”

“No.” Rory sighs as though moderately irritated. “Three seven nine seven three nine.”

Harry is literally laughing, just openly snickering to himself, unable to try hiding his amusement this time around. And Louis wants to shove him further against the freshly desecrated wall.

“Ok, I got it.”

“No, say it.” Rory requests, looking at Louis expectantly. “It gotta be right or it’ll be the wrong parents!”

“Three seven nine seven three nine.” Louis recites exactly.

“No. That’s not right at all. No. _No_!”

“Rory, it’s the number you just said, love.” 

“No. No, it’s not.” He shakes his head but it’s more like he shakes his entire body. “I did not say that.” 

Harry finally composes himself, pushing off the wall to kneel down next to Rory. “Ok baby let me try. Tell Daddy the number.” 

“Three three seven seven three nine nine nine nine nine nine seven three nine seven three.” Rory relays in a serious manner. “Ok?”

Harry gives Rory the most concerned, confused face, eyebrows pulled together and everything. And now its Louis turn to start full on laughing.

“Right. Ok, got it.” Harry nods slowly.

Rory eyes him in suspicion. “Say it to me. Out loud. Say it, Daddy.”

“Erm…you know what, Ro? I already typed it into the phone as you said and it’s already ringing—” Harry holds the phone up to his ear before Rory can refute his claim. 

“Oh, um hi, yes hello. Are you the father of Doobie—” Harry places a hand over the phone to look back at Rory. “What is Doobie’s last name?”

“Glitter Man.” Rory replies instantly with zero hesitation.

“Glitter Man? That’s his last name?”

“Yes, Daddy. Yes.” He urges his father.

Harry and Louis share a look and try not to burst into a fit of giggles again. “Ok…”

“Mr. Glitter Man. Hi, hello your son...erm Doobie is at my house with my son, Rory.” Harry speaks easily in his fake conversation. “Yes, Rory is a very cool kid and what? You think he’s super smart too? I totally agree with you, he’s _amazing_.” He pauses for a moment, nodding his head. “Yes, well see, we’ve had such an interesting time with Doobie today and he seems to have trouble following the rules.”

Rory is watching Harry with what looks to be bated breath, eyes trained on him.

“Yes, I see. Mhmm…mhmm…” Harry hums into the phone, nodding along as though there really is a Mr. Glitter Man talking his ear off. “Oh ok, I’ll let him know right away. Thank you. Have a nice day.”

“What did he say, Daddy?” Rory asks instantly.

“So Rory, Doobie’s dad wants him to come home now.”

“Oh, wow. Welp, if that’s what his dad wants, I think it’s probably for the best.” Louis agrees right away.

But Rory is not so pleased with this news, face morphing into distress. “No! He can’t leave!”

“Rory—” 

He’s clearly upset and possibly even on his way to a full-blown tantrum. “No!”

“Hey Ro—”

“Nooooo!” Rory cries before running up the stairs and off to his room.

“Well that went about as good as expected.” Louis surmises with a light sigh.

“I didn’t think he’d be that upset about it.” Harry says. “He’s got a real knack for dramatics, that kid.”

“Hmm, I wonder where he got that from.” Louis wonders sarcastically as he glances back at his husband.

Harry grins knowingly. “You. Obviously.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, H. Drama is your middle name.”

“And yours sure isn’t subtle.” Harry tosses back.

Louis rolls his eyes before linking arms with Harry. “Come on, we’ve got to figure this out.”

When they get to Rory’s bedroom, they find him face down on his bed lying perfectly still. And yes, the dramatics are very strong in this one.

“Rory? Hey bud. Can we talk for a minute?” Harry sits down on the edge of the bed and Louis does the same. 

Rory’s face is pressed down into the pillow, but he’s still talking. Obviously, it’s unintelligible nonsense. “Buhh ismh myhh ftyngd ndg wntgh.”

“Ro, you silly, silly boy. No one can understand you when you do that. Sit up, love.” Louis pulls him up and into his lap.

Rory huffs and his curls topple over his face as he frowns, crossing his little arms over his chest.

“Aww, my little grumps.” Louis blows on his cheeks, kissing him until he squeals and giggles. “Stop frowning, you’ll ruin that sweet face I love so much.” 

“Maybe I like my frowny face.” Rory pouts with his eyebrows pulled together purposely. Really, it’s more cute than anything else.

Harry makes the same face back at him, knitting his brows together.

“No, don’t copy me!” Rory scowls in a way he might think is menacing but it’s totally not.

“Why not? Maybe I like my frowny face too.” Harry challenges.

Rory reaches over and tugs Harry’s frown into a makeshift smile with his fingers. Watching how he can manipulate Harry’s face around seems to make him giggle again, breaking his frown.

“Aww there he is, there’s my Rory boy.” Harry smiles naturally at his son.

“RoRo, why don’t you want Doobie to go home?” Louis asks him, snuggling his small body.

“Cuz if he leaves, I will be lonely.” Rory admits sounding sad as he plays with Louis’ fingers.

“Is that what this is about?” Harry wonders softly.

“Are you lonely, babes?” Louis kisses the top of his head.

Rory sits quietly for a moment, frowning to himself again. “Sometimes...”

“Oh no, Ro. I’m so sorry, honey.” Harry coddles gently. “When did you start feeling lonely? You know we love you right, Rory? We love you so much.”

Rory nods, but there’s still a sad little pout to his lips. “But if you really love me, why you gotta go to work? Why not play with me all day?”

“We’d love nothing more than to play with you all day RoRo, but we have to go to work so we can take care of you.” Louis tries to explain. “Does that make sense?”

“But you not go before. Only Daddy. But now you go. And Daddy. And I go to nursery school. And I not wanna go anymore.” 

“Why not? I thought you liked it there.” 

“No.”

“No, why?” Louis asks.

“Cuz I told you already! I miss you!” Rory looks like he’s about two seconds from crying, lip already quivering. “And I do not like it.” He spins around and hugs Louis tightly, burying his face against his shirt “I miss you all day! And I miss Daddy all day! And I am sad! I am just sad. A sad Rory boy.”

“Oh, darling I’m sorry, we don’t want you to be a sad Rory boy.” Louis rubs his back soothingly, lips pressed to his curls. “We miss you too, you know?”

Rory sniffles and peeks up at him. “Really?”

“Yep. All day.” Harry confirms with a comforting hand also on Rory’s back. “We go to work and we count down the hours—no, the minutes—no, the _seconds _till we get to see you again.” 

“You miss me that much?” Rory wonders curiously.

“Yes, I miss your stinky little bum.” Harry leans in and blows on his cheek.

Rory grins knowingly, giggling. “It’s not stinky. I am clean now.”

“And I’m so, _so _glad. We should keep it that way.” 

“Hmm maybe.” Rory considers to himself. “But maybe no.” 

“Maybe no? Maybe _nooo!_?” Harry gasps in mock disbelief as he tickles his tummy.

Rory giggles again happily before his face grows serious as he looks up at his parents. “I love you lots and lots.”

Harry softly ruffles Rory’s already wild curls. “We love you too, little monster.”

“Lots and lots and lots.” Louis adds peppering his son’s forehead with kisses.

“So…” Rory starts, and Louis already feels a new sense of dread before the three-year-old even says anything. “You can be Doobie’s parents now? Right?”

Louis blinks twice. “I’m sorry, _what_?”

Harry wears an equally confused expression. “Hmm?”

“He can be my brother! You can be his Daddy and his Papa too! And then he can stay foreveeeer!”

“How did he get that out of anything we said? Like honestly…how?”

“Oh my god…it never ends…” Harry pales a little.

“Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever! Yay!” Rory dancing around the room chanting, “Doobie Tomlinson Styles!”

Louis turns to Harry slowly in question. “So, remind me love, in your expert opinion, exactly how much longer until our son grows out of this?”

Harry just starts laughing, dropping his head into both his hands weakly.

“And follow up question, can we realistically survive that long?”

“Oh, we are so screwed.”


End file.
